


Grief, Comfort, and I Love You

by MagicMythMayhem



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Family, Grief, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Romance, all dads, and mary, cul-de-sac kids, losing a spouse, poly dads - Freeform, this has literally everyone in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMythMayhem/pseuds/MagicMythMayhem
Summary: Pain like it was yesterday. Friends and lovers that understand in the present. A glimpse at a future with healing and hope.





	Grief, Comfort, and I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> CUZ I CAN. Hope you enjoy!  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Dream Daddy

Amanda was home for winter break, which she was very happy about. As the cold set in stronger, when memories flooded back, she needed the comfort and quiet of her own room. The house wasn’t quiet though, not since her dad’s boyfriends telepathically decided their house would be The Hang Out HouseTM. Not that either of them minded. They wouldn’t bother her in her room though, respected boundaries and all that. Like hers. Her dad was always trying his best, but she needed to be his support too. Especially now. So that’s why she was facing the inside of her bedroom door, working up the nerve to open it. For her dad. She took a deep breath, shaking off most of her tears, and walked in to the kitchen area where the seven of them were chilling.

“Hey Amanda!” Craig called, waving his hand. This drew the attention of the other men to her presence, each saying hi in their own way. They were all used to this after several months of dating.

Amanda leaned against the doorway connecting the hallway to the living room. “H-hey!” she smiled, but there were traces of sadness in her voice. Each of them registered this, and patiently waited to listen if she had more to say since her dad wasn’t in the room to banter with.  Again she took a breath. “I need to tell you all something.” Silence nudged her forward. “Okay, so, you may definitely have noticed that Dad and I have been a bit distant these past few days. Like something was kinda off with us. And how Dad hasn’t come out of his room today and locked the door. And I’ve been in my room all day too. And we’re gonna be distant for the next couple days too, just so you know.” She paused, then said, “If you’re gonna be a part of our lives this closely, then you should probably know about our Breakdown Days. There are 5 days of the year that Dad and I become very vulnerable and emotional and sad and we distance ourselves from everything and cry to ourselves. A lot.” She sighed, clinching her fists. “As most of you know, Dad was married, and I called him Papa. Not that you guys would know that. But I did. Dad and Papa adopted me when I was a baby, so they’re all I’ve ever known.”

She was slowly losing grip of her words, tears threatening to flood her features. “Um. Well. About 6 years ago, Papa went out one night for evening errands. And he didn’t come home. So we called the cops and waited. And like, we both were freaking out and didn’t sleep and stuff. And Dad was constantly on edge of a panic attack. And in the morning we got a call from the hospital that he was there, brought in late that night. Got hit in his car by a speeding car. So we got to the hospital and like, this was like at 6am so it wasn’t visitor hours yet but, you know, that wasn’t gonna stop us. I mean, Dad hit flaming tennis balls at the police station because they wouldn’t do anything about the creep in front of the LGBTQ+ cafe that shouted slurs and threats at everyone that walked in, while Papa actually dealt with the creep.  So like I create a diversion, cuz like, the man is freaking out about Papa and it’s more important for him to see him cuz the last thing either of us need is him dropping right now due to anxiety. So he finds the room number and sprints. And I disperse the diversion and sneak onto the elevator, and he manages to remember to text me the room number, which was a miracle in itself. So I get there, and Dad’s bawling his eyes out and talking nonstop and Papa’s awake but barely and you can see him smile a bit listening to Dad and he notices me and grunts and I go on the opposite side of him and I’m crying and we’re holding his hands and it’s like he was waiting for us because he was so peaceful and the beeping thing is getting fainter and we’re crying and Papa starts crying and a nurse comes in, presumably to yell at us but probably takes pity on us. And says something like “We’ve been trying to keep him stable” or something but neither of us are really listening and we’re just focusing on Papa and just babbling nonstop and then Papa says “I love you” and we say “I love you too” and it flatlines and we start bawling.”

She takes a big gasp of breath, covering her face and wiping her tears. “So like today is the 5 year anniversary of all that. The other days are the 3 of our birthdays and their wedding anniversary. Cuz we miss him. And stuff. I mean, we miss him every day but those days we let ourselves succumb to the hurricane of missing him. And that’s not to say we’re not happy right now. We are. A lot. Papa would be very proud of Dad for handling the transition so well, and making friends, and making more than friends. And I’m sure Dad’s anxiety is telling him he deserves none of this or that he shouldn’t or that he’s disgracing Papa or something we both know none of that is true and that if Papa was here there would be 9 dads in this house. Anyway, just felt like you should be in the loop so none of you take our behavior personally and cuz like, we all care about each other and stuff. Also, the only times he comes out are like, to pee, so be kind but give him space. I’m gonna go back into my room now and totally not hide under my blanket and cry. Laterz.” She finger guns her way out like a tear stained champ and locks herself in her room to resume breaking down.

After a moment, they all looked at each other and a silent understanding passed between them. They got up slowly and got to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple hours later Amanda heard a knock on her door. “Got some food for you, kid, if you want any,” Robert called. He placed the tray on the floor and walked away. “I’ll leave you be.”

“Thank you!” She called back, slightly muffled by the closed door. She opened it to find a tray of various comfort foods and several small notes of support and dad puns. She covered her mouth to stop from audibly sobbing in appreciation. _Such dorks._ She took the tray inside and made room on her floor to chow down, since she hadn’t had much of an appetite until it was in front of her. About a half hour later her phone started buzzing excitedly. There were texts from Brian, Craig, Joseph and Mary. Each was a video message from their children (since they were too young to have cell phones themselves). Daisy was all sweet and encouraging. Briar and Hazel kept talking about if you could actually punch sadness and if physical things make emotions stronger, with River giggling in between them. Christian and Christie babbled on in their own video, talking about ghosts and how if the ghost should be friendly if you knew them so you shouldn’t be sad because that would make the friendly ghost sad. While Chris just held Crish in his lap and gave a thumbs up and tried to make Crish give a thumbs up too, with little luck and sweet all the same.

This barrage of ‘Let’s Cheer Up and Support Amanda’ was accompanied with the sudden activity in the group chat titled “Cool Kids of the Cul-de-sac”, made up of Lucien, Carmensita, Ernest, Val and herself. Each of them threw their own style of comfort, ranging from long sentimental texts to jokes and memes, all under the guise of ‘What are you talking about, we’re not doing anything special, we’re just talking’. They were as sly as a bulldozer, and didn’t care, of course. They were pretty confident at showing their support. “I love you guys” She typed. Amanda hugged her picture of Dad, Papa, and herself and texted her new family until the late hours of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damien and Matt knocked on the bedroom door. No answer.

“We brought some food for you, love. It is not good to go too long without eating.” Damien said. Still no answer.

Matt leaned next to the door. “Amanda told us what you both are going through right now. Now, this _isn’t_ the best way to handle grief, but we’ll leave you be until you’re ready to come out. Just remember that we all love you and are here for you no matter what.” No answer. The two looked at the door and sighed in resignation. They put the tray down and went back to the others.

A few moments later, the bedroom door opened a crack. Cheeks tear stained, features tired and somber, blanket worn like a hooded cape, he looked out in the direction of the living room with shy affection in his eyes. He looked down at the tray. Bunch of favorite foods, something with their own special touch, and a note. He gently pulled the tray inside and sat against his bed. He opened the note. It was in Hugo’s handwriting (he _did_ have the best handwriting). It was long and notated precisely, marking who contributed what to the note. It was sentimental and mushy and tinged with experienced understanding and clumsy expression and it warmed his heart deeply. He poked at his food before his hunger awakened. When he was finished, he stood up and stretched, stiff from being curled up all day and last night. He looked over at his phone and walked over to it. His hand hovered over it, unsure. He stared intently at it for a moment before letting out a deep breath and grabbed it. He hesitated after each movement like a claymation figure, but finally got out two texts. One was to the boyfriend chat, (after cycling through at least 12 other text ideas,) just a “Thank You”. He thought for a moment, took a breath, then typed “I love you”. He figured they wouldn’t respond, at least not through text. The other was another simple one to Amanda, “You ok?”

Amanda: “Yeah!”

               “Best I’ve been all day”

Dad: “Good. Me too.”

Amanda: “Ur boyfriends are dorks by the way”

Dad: “Fully noted.”

Amanda: “Hey, Dad?”

Dad: “Yes?”

Amanda: “The move was a good idea”

               “Papa would be proud of us”

Dad: “Yeah. I know. You’re right. I’m glad. Happy.”

Amanda: “I’m happy too”

Dad: “I love you.”

Amanda: “I love you too”

He put his phone down and laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and focusing on his breathing. There was a strong knock on the door.

“Hey, there’s a Long Haul Paranormal Ice Road Ghost Truckers marathon starting from season 1 on soon.” Brian said.

“Be an awful shame if we had a date night without you.” Joseph said. No answer. They shared a forlorn look and headed back to the living room. Each of them took their spots and talked low while they waited for the show to start. Suddenly there was movement on the other side of the room. They looked up and smiled at their disheveled boyfriend in his pjs with a blanket over him like a child.

“You’re up! Are you feeling alright enough?” Hugo asked. He nodded slowly. “Need some nonverbal time, I’m guessing?” He nodded again.

“Well at least you’re up and moving! And with others! That’ll help a ton!” Craig said.

“So does some good ol’ frozen ghost hunting. Come sit your ass down and let’s watch the hell outta these Canadian truckers,” Robert said.

He gave a half smile and a nod and eagerly went over to his spot among the group. They all watched the marathon til the early morning, ending up falling asleep together on the couch and floor.

Amanda and her Dad slept soundly that night. No nightmares. No panic attacks. Just peace. As the stars shone brightly in the night sky, Papa was so proud of his husband and daughter. A good move indeed.


End file.
